Eighty

She lays the white plastic down on the counter, brushing the strand of hair that fell into her face away from her eyes.

"They're all positive," she murmurs, looking over her shoulder to a very pale Roman.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he whispers, sinking down against the cupboards.

"Don't lean against the wood, you'll get blood on it," she snaps, washing her hands in the kitchen sink.

He absentmindedly reaches around to his back and begins unclipping his chest plate, staring at the pregnancy tests on the kitchen island.

Avery slaps his hands away and unclips his armour for him, gritting her teeth.

"Stupid," she growls, and he looks up in alarm, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

"What did I do?" He asks, slowly hauling himself up from the ground.

"Not you, me," she sighs, shaking her head miserably.

"What are you talking about, you crazy girl?" He furrows his brows, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him gently.

"I've constantly been shifting, and I just foug